


nobody ever gets away

by noctiphany



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Cock Warming, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Infidelity, M/M, Manipulation, Not Happy, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Ruined Orgasms, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/pseuds/noctiphany
Summary: Turns out you don't always have to be kidnapped to develop Stockholm Syndrome.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Eobard Thawne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 142





	nobody ever gets away

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Ryan!
> 
> I really like TV Thawne, so that's sort of the characterization I was going with here. And with Barry's age from the show, just, you know, to highlight them daddy issues. I hope this is not too CWish, but I don't know a whole lot about Barry from the comics, so I hope this is okay!

Stockholm syndrome - noun 

: an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival.

Eventually, you just get tired of running. Some people get tired of the day to day grind, some get tired of fighting their addictions or vices. They work and work and they fight and fight and one day, they just can't do it anymore. They decide their health or their family or their happiness is more important than what's killing them inside.

Barry Allen is tired of running. 

So instead, he's on his knees, opening his jaw wide for Eobard to fuck his throat. Eobard has his fingers twisted in Barry's hair, roughly forcing him down on his cock again and again using his super speed, and Barry wonders as he chokes and gags, as drool runs down his chin, if his neck will finally snap this time. 

He's just so _tired_.

After, Barry wipes the spit and come from his chin and neck with a towel and gets dressed as Eobard lies on his bed, naked, watching Barry's every move. Barry is watching him too, this time. He's never noticed before how nice Eobards body is, how handsome he is. Even his cock is beautiful where it rests against his thigh and Barry has a brief moment of insanity thinking about what it would feel like inside of him. When he looks back up at Eobard's face, the man is smiling. 

"Why are you watching me?" Barry asks, his voice raw and sore, like shredded sandpaper and he wonders, idly, how he's going to explain it to Iris. 

"I've always watched you, Barry," Eobard says, and Barry thinks that probably that should make him feel sick or angry, but instead all he feels is a warmth growing behind his ribs.

::

When Iris asks about his voice, Barry tells her he's catching a cold. She makes him honey lemon tea and Barry does not think of the way Eobard said his name when he came down his throat, hatred melting into adoration. 

"Thank you, Iris," Barry says. "I love you."

"Always," Iris smiles. 

_I've always watched you, Barry._

Now, now Barry feels sick.

:::

"Aw," Eobard says, ruffling his hair. "Someone's got a little Stockholm."

Barry rolls his eyes, reaches across the board and moves his rook. "I don't have Stockholm Syndrome," he says. "You haven't kidnapped me."

"Sure, kiddo," Eobard grins. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

He wins the game and as the loser, Barry has to kneel on the floor in front of the couch and warm Eobard's cock while he watches television for an hour. Barry would prefer Eobard to actually fuck his mouth, but there's something nice about being used like this too. And he does enjoy his mouth being filled. After a while, the TV becomes nothing but white noise and the carpet fibers digging into Barry's knees no longer sting and the edges of his mind go all soft and fuzzy, his mind totally blank. He's vaguely aware that he's drooling all over the couch, but he feels Eobard's hand in his hair every now and then and the soft, deep murmur of his voice, so he figures he must be doing good. 

When Barry is nearly about to drift off, that's when Eobard puts a hand on top of his head and shoves him down on his cock, holding him there. Barry's hands fly up as he panics, unable to breathe. Eobard's cock is down his throat cutting off his air supply, and he can't breathe, he can't, he can't - 

"Through your nose, Barry," Eobard is saying. "Be a smart boy."

Barry feels like an idiot. His cheeks flush hot from the shame and he starts to breathe through his nose. When he's calmer, he relaxes his throat to take Eobard deeper and when Eobard starts to fuck his throat, Barry starts to drift to that quiet, soft place again. 

"No, no," Eobard says, smacking his cheek hard enough it stings. "None of that. Stay with _me_."

Barry breathes deep through his nose and looks up at Eobard, eyes brimming with tears. He really is a beautiful man and the way he looks at Barry, like he's some kind of trophy to be won… 

"Oh, just look at you," Eobard rumbles. "My perfect, perfect boy."

He comes down Barry's throat not long after, thumbs digging into Barry's cheekbones as he holds him there until his cock stops pulsing on Barry's tongue. Then he pulls Barry up off the floor and into his lap, wipes his face for him with a cloth the way Barry's dad used to do when he was finished eating. Barry's so hard he can barely think of anything else, wants nothing more than to reach down and touch himself, but Eobard has never had any interest in whether Barry comes or not and he doubts that's going to change now. 

They watch TV together afterward, the sitcom Barry always watches with Iris, and when he thinks about her sitting at home watching it by herself because she thinks he's working late, he wants Eobard's cock back down his throat. 

:::

On Tuesday, the Reverse Flash holds Iris up by the throat and tells Barry how easily he could snap her neck. 

Twelve years ago, Eobard Thawne murdered his mother. 

In the 25th century, Eobard Thawne is The Flash's biggest fan.

On Friday, he makes Barry's favorite meal and they sit at Eobards's kitchen table to eat together. Eobard's pouring him a third glass of wine when Barry starts giggling. 

"I think I might have a little Stockholm," he giggles and Eobard just pats his head. 

"Sweet boy," he says. "Stupid, but sweet."

:::

They wash the dishes together after dinner, then Eobard has Barry warm his cock for him again in the living room, cartoons from Barry's childhood playing on the TV in the backgroynd. Only this time, Eobard doesn't stay quiet or ignore him the whole time. He showers Barry with praise and compliments until Barry's cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wet with tears. 

"Look at you, look how good you're doing, Barry. I'm so proud of you. You're always so good for me, baby boy. Such a good boy for me."

Barry whines around him. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't - Eobard isn't supposed to do _that_ , be so nice to him like that. Barry feels like something is shaking loose inside of him, like there's a chink in his armor that Eobard just found and is exploiting it, the way he does with all of Barry's weaknesses. 

"I wish you could see how lovely you look," he continues his assault. "I think you look your prettiest on your knees for me, but you're always so beautiful. I do love your mouth, Barry. I just love being inside you. Do you like that too, sweetheart?" 

He finally lets Barry off his cock, if only so he can answer, but when Barry tries to speak, only a heaving, wet sob comes out. 

"Oh, my boy," Eobard coos. He lifts Barry up by his underarms and pulls him astride his lap and Barry's arms instinctively wrap around his neck. He curls in on himself, making himself as small as possible in Eobard's lap and buries in face in Eobard's neck. 

" _Daddy_ ," he whimpers softly, cheeks stained with tear tracks, and Eobard just shushes him. 

"I'm here, darling boy," he says, unbuttoning Barry's pants and taking his cock out. "Daddy's got you."

:::

One of Barry's coworkers is found dead behind their office the next week, neck snapped in two. There's a text from him still on Barry's phone, asking if he'd like to get drinks together Friday. 

"As _friends_ ," Barry tells Eobard later, rolling his eyes. He already told him that a few days ago. "I mean, geeze. I'd never cheat on Iris."

Two hours later, after he helps Eobard assemble his new entertainment center from Ikea, Barry has three of Eobard's fingers buried inside of him. When Eobard begins to vibrate them against his prostate, Barry screams. 

"Oh, you sound exquisite," Eobard says as he pumps his fingers in and out of Barry's hole. "I could do this all night."

"No," Barry whines, grinding his ass back against Eobard's hand. "No please, Daddy -" 

He catches himself, cheeks flushing red hot, but it's too late. 

"Go on," Eobard says, petting Barry's back with his free hand. "Come on, sweet boy. Tell Daddy what you need."

Barry shudders, cock twitching and spilling precome.

"You, Daddy," Barry moans softly into the mattress as he feels Eobard's fingers slide out of him, then the head of his cock pressing at Barry's entrance. "I need you."

:::

Eobard's cock feels larger inside of him than it ever did in his hands or goesgoes mouth. Barry's not sure it should feel like being ripped open from the inside out. Maybe he should have asked him to use lube. Maybe he should ask Eobard to slow down or not be so rough, but he won't, because it's pointless. Eobard wouldn't listen, he'd just laugh. And a not so small part of Barry doesn't want him to. This is what he wants. This is what he deserves. But most of all, it's what he needs. 

"Just me," Eobard grunts as he fucks into him, working them both into a sweat. "Yes. I'm the only one you need, Barry. The only one you'll ever need again. You know Daddy will take care of his baby boy."

The thing about Eobard is yes, he's a psychopath who murders Barry's friends and family. But he's the only one who's ever really _seen_ him. He gets Barry in a way Iris or Hal or anyone else never could. He loves Barry in a way that makes everyone else's love pale in comparison. Barry does need him, sometimes so much it scares him. So much that if someone ever tried to take Eobard away from him, he's afraid of what he might do to them. 

Eobard takes care of him. Helps him. Hurts him the way he needs to be hurt. Looks out for him. He's the father Barry never got to have, the lover he never knew was possible, opening Barry up and talking apart, piece by piece, just so he can put him back together the way he wants. It's fine with Barry, he was never right to begin with. 

" _Please_ ," Barry gasps. "Please Daddy, let me come, please?"

"Well, since you've been such a good boy," Eobard murmurs, then he's pulling out and rolling Barry onto his back, then pushing back inside of him. Barry's so sore he has to shove his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. But then Eobard's moving again and his fingers are wrapped around Barry's cock, jerking him off in sync with his thrusts and Barry is so close he feels like every nerve ending in his body is on fire. He's only vaguely aware that the voice moaning so filthily and begging, _harder daddy please fuck me_ , is his own. 

"That's right, my gorgeous boy," Eobard murmurs, his hand tight around Barry's cock as he fists it. "You look so beautiful when you beg, sweetheart. Makes me want to ruin you like this all the time."

" _Please_."

Eobard laughs. "Oh, you're so close already, aren't you?" 

Barry nods emphatically. "Please. Please let me come, I'll do anything, just -" 

He's so afraid this is going to be another time that Eobard refuses to let him come. Barry's afraid that if he doesn't get to come after all this his mind may literally break. 

"Oh good boy," Eobard purrs, staring down at Barry darkly. "Now that's what I like to hear."

Then he's leaning down and kissing Barry's lips, something he's never done before, overwhelming him with praise and touch and sensation. He so close, the tension coiling hot in his belly, building and building, Barry's body arching in preparation for it and - 

"Would you kill her for me, Barry?"

Barry's toes curl, his orgasm reaching its peak, then - -

Eobard takes his hand off of him. 

Barry's back arches off the bed and he cries out, desperately seeking Eobard's hand to finish him, to take him to that feeling he's been chasing." Yes," he gasps, writhing against the sheets. "Yes daddy, whatever you want."

Eobard kisses his lips. "Do you love me, Barry?" 

"Yes," Barry answers without hesitation, knowing it's true even despite how bad he needs to come. That if Eobard asked him while they were playing chess he might be able to lie to Eobard, but never to himself.

"Oh, I love you too, sweet boy," Eobard says, then his hand is finally back on Barry, jerking him off so hard and fast that Barry can't think, doesn't think he's even saying anything coherent. He's almost there, right on the edge, muscles pulled taut. He feels it rising, biting into his lip as the pleasure peaks -

"Yes," Barry gasps as it surges through him, he's _coming,_ then -

Eobard takes his hand off of him and everything stops, sharply and suddenly.. 

" _No_!" Barry curls in on himself and lets out a loud, wounded sob, the orgasm he'd waited so long for, the one that was going to make this all worth it, ruined. 

Just like him. 

Barry's body shakes as it s unable to come properly, his muscles still wraufht with tension that wasn't able to be released. He lies on his side and tears stream down his face onto Eobard's pillow. It's the worst thing he's ever felt. 

"I hate you," Barry says. And he does. It's easy to see it now, to understand how he really feels, like some fog has been lifted. God, he fucking hates Eobard Thawne. "I hate you so much. I wish you would leave me alone."

Eobard just laughs and ruffles his hair. "We both know that's not true." 

Anger throbs inside of Barry and he thinks _I_ _could kill him. I could do it._

"But you can hate me if you want," Eobard says, leaning down to peck Barry on the cheek. "Because I know you'll always love me. Isn't that right, Barry?" 

Nothing Eobard just said would make any sense to anyone else. But unfortunately, for Barry it does. When Eobard wraps his arms around Barry and pulls Barry's back against his chest, Barry closes his eyes and let's him, soaking up the body heat, the physical touch he can never get enough of.

"Right, Barry?" Eobard asks again, poking Barry in the ribs where he knows he's most ticklish. 

Barry giggles, then pushes Eobard's hand away. 

"Yes, Daddy."


End file.
